


rile me up, don't let me down

by hoppnhorn



Series: oh to be young (and greek) [5]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Omega Billy Hargrove, Omega Steve Harrington, stupid boys being idiots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 04:16:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18865528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoppnhorn/pseuds/hoppnhorn
Summary: Billy busts into the door like a battering ram, his whole body pushing into the room without much effort. Not that Steve puts up a fight.He wouldn’t be a match for a determined Billy anyway.“So let’stalk, baby.” Billy purrs, or more accuratelyslurs, and presses himself up against Steve’s side. Breathes flammable fumes into his face.“Jesus Christ.”“Just Billy.” The guy giggles into his cheek, but Steve barely has to swat at his chest to put him off balance and duck away.





	rile me up, don't let me down

Fucking  _ Billy _ .

Half the fucking campus knows about the library fight within a day. Steve wants to  _ disappear _ , vaporize if possible, but then a kegger gets out of control the next night and sixteen Alpha Alpha Chi’s are arrested for general stupidity. 

It smothers Steve’s little dramatic life in a heartbeat, thank god, and he’s anonymous once again.

The frat is forgiving, for the most part. The university too, after Steve’s father plays a round of golf with the Dean of the Business school. He gets an earful from his mother about messing around with an omega, but after that long-winded conversation, it goes back to normal. 

Except Peter ghosts him.

And he’s definitely going to fail Geology.

And Billy is nowhere to be found.

Weirdly enough, it’s Nancy who reaches out first. She calls him a couple days after the dust settles and offers to buy him coffee at the little place in the middle of campus. A hole in the wall, haphazard sort of place. The floors are uneven from years of patching the hardwood, creaky and scarred from shoes. 

It’s homey, more so than the cookie cutter Starbucks stores that scatter campus. 

This place is very Nancy. Unique yet the same song and dance somehow. 

Steve orders a white chocolate mocha, because of course they have them and he’s not too proud to buy his sugar with a side of coffee. With a muffin, because he feels like he  _ deserves _ a goddamn muffin after his shitty week. 

Nancy is wearing an off the shoulder shirt that reveals the dip of her neck and Steve has to take a deep breath when he sees the crescent scar of teeth marks in her pale skin. Slightly pink, but long healed, it’s not the first time he’s seen it. It’s just the first time he’s ever seen it and instead of feeling a vague envy he feels his heart drop.

And cry out for a specific person.

But then Nancy is waving and he’s plopping his stuff down at the table. 

“Hey, stranger.” She tries to look cheerful. It falls somewhere just short of believable. “You still moping or are you gonna just tell me what happened?” 

“I’m not  _ moping _ .” He counters, and Nancy’s smile softens to something more genuine. More familiar. 

“Oh please.” She rolls her eyes playfully and sips her iced coffee from a straw. “Steve, you mope about a bad hair day.  _ This _ drama?” She nods at him. “Spill.”

“I have bad taste in men.” Steve mutters, taking a long pull from his coffee. Nancy lets the silence linger for a whole five seconds before she rolls her eyes and snaps her fingers.

“Unabridged version, Steve.” Her nails are short and pink, pastel of course, when she pokes him in the forearm with one. “But firstly…” She leans forward across the table and arches a brow. “Billy  _ fucking  _ Hargrove?” 

“Jesus.”

“I mean, I knew you liked them pretty but _ Billy _ ? He’s an asshole—” 

“It’s...complicated.” Steve says quickly, his cheeks warm as he glances around the cafe. If someone overheard them, he’d probably die on the spot.

“I doubt it.” Nancy chews her bottom lip. “He went up against an alpha for you.” 

Leave it to Nancy to put it in such simple terms. Simple,  _ clear _ terms. 

“It was just a physical thing.” He feels like an idiot, staring down at his hands on the table. His memories of the beginning are a haze of lust and stimulation. Nothing solid, nothing sure. But how he  _ feels _ is something else entirely. “Until it wasn’t.” Steve admits with a groan, pulling on his hair. “Fuck, Nance. I’m such a moron.” 

“Falling in love isn’t a bad thing.” She says, so gently, her palm reassuring on his forearm. Holding him in place. “Granted, smashing someone over the head with a chair is definitely  _ bad _ —“

“No shit.” Steve grumbles.

“But that’s not something you do for someone you’re just  _ sleeping _ with.” She points out. “That’s something a  _ mated  _ alpha does.”

“Billy isn’t an alpha.” He counters with an arched brow.

“God you’re so literal.” Nancy smirks. “What I’m saying is Billy is crazy about you.” 

And suddenly he’s thankful he’s not drinking hot coffee because it would have wound up in his lap. 

“No, he’s not.” Steve says firmly.

“Except he is, and everyone on campus knows except  _ you _ .” She says, poking him in the arm again. This time, her nail stings and he tugs his arm away with a small hiss. 

“He’s doesn’t even  _ look _ at me at the house.” He spits. “He barely talked to me before and now I don’t even know if he’s  _ alive _ .” 

“You mean, gasp, he’s emotionally constipated?” Nancy quips with a smirk. “I’m  _ so  _ shocked. Come on, Steve. What frat boy isn’t?” 

“I’m in a frat—”

“And you’re so backed up it’s coming out of your ears.” She laughs.

“Gross.” 

“You’re into him. He’s into you. Sort your shit out, Steve.” Nancy sips her coffee, eyes big and wide and daring him to contradict her. 

Which he does, on an exasperated exhale.

“It’s not...that simple.”

“Isn’t it?” 

 

 

Nancy’s words follow him all the way home. Like a broken record, they repeat in an endless circle.  _ Isn’t it? _

Steve doesn’t have an answer. 

Heading to his room, he thinks about all the times he and Billy had shared a bed, just talking and touching. 

_ You‘re into him _ .

Really, that part isn’t news. But it still rings in his ears, makes his heart race. He hates Billy and yet he’s nuts for Billy, and nothing about  _ that  _ is simple. No matter what Nancy says. 

Steve is halfway down the hall before he sees the shadow in front of his door. Or, more accurately, the  _ mass _ sitting against his door. 

He doesn’t need to get closer to know it’s Billy. That’s second nature now, knowing, sensing him. He barely gets a glance and Steve feels the fight leave his limbs, the tension flow from his shoulders. He’s  _ missed _ the idiot, even though he’s,  _ still _ , an idiot. And a crazy motherfucker. But Steve?

Jesus. 

He  _ loves  _ him. 

And he forgets all the reasons he should hate Billy, want him gone, when he lays eyes on him -- the sad lump in front of his bedroom door. 

Like a lost dog. 

Just sitting there, head down, hair hanging in his face. 

_ Drunk _ , if the smell is anything to go by. 

He can’t even be mad about that -- that it took Billy getting drunk to muster up the courage to actually  _ appear _ for the first time in over a week. He’s too happy to just see the guy, to know that he hasn’t just vanished off the face of the earth. Because the thought of  _ that _ , of losing Billy altogether, that had been the whisper in his ear. The tightness in his chest. All week. The  _ fear _ had crept into his thoughts, telling him that Billy wasn’t going to actually  _ stick around _ after making an ass out of himself. 

Billy was as good as gone.

But he’s not -- he’s slumped in the hallway reeking of something  _ cheap _ and strong -- for Steve. Waiting. 

It’s hard to keep from rushing to him and hauling the guy into a hug, smothering him with all of his vulnerability. He actively  _ forces _ himself to walk down the hall, drop his backpack loudly at Billy’s feet.

His head shoots up, like he’d been caught sleeping in class, and he slams it into the wood door, cursing almost instantly. And Steve can’t help but snort at him. How  _ goofy _ it all is. 

“It’s not even three yet.” He mutters, watching as Billy rubs his head, groans a little. “You’re already on thin ice with the frat—”

“They can go fuck themselves.” Billy spits, messing his own hair. Like a petulant child, he pouts, glaring at the floor. 

Steve sighs at him and that glare is redirected, although the effect is dulled by the messy blond curls strewn across Billy’s forehead. He looks sleepy, exhausted. And Steve figures he probably would have slept in the hall for a long while, if no one had come along. 

“You look like shit.” He states plainly -- Billy’s nose scrunches in irritation. “Smell like shit too.”

“You can go fuck yourself.” The guy hisses. “I came here to…” And as his voice trails off, Steve squats down to stare him in the face. 

“To what?” He barks, louder than necessary, and Billy flinches away. “Were you going to say  _ apologize  _ because that’s what you  _ should _ be here to do.” 

“Fuck you.” Billy mutters. Steve stands and tugs on his bedroom door, pulling it open enough to smack against Billy’s back, push him across the floor a few inches. “Jesus—”

“If you’re not here to apologize, you’re just in the way.” Steve shoots at him. “You’re just a big, fucking  _ asshole _ in my doorway.” With one foot, he kicks at Billy’s bulk, trying to  _ open _ the door. 

“Fucking  _ shit _ , Harrington.” Billy manages to grumble before he’s scrambling to stand, swaying dangerously on his feet. Steve is almost gets the door closed but Billy’s shoulder wedges into the frame, keeps it open. “The hell is your  _ problem _ ?”

“ _ You _ .” Steve nearly  _ yells _ . His ears ring from his heartbeat, running wild in his chest with anger. With  _ frustration _ . “You are my  _ problem _ , Hargrove.” 

“Well, I’m  _ sorry _ .” Billy sneers. “I’m sorry I’m such a  _ problem _ .” 

“You  _ attacked _ someone because heaven forbid we actually  _ talk _ —”

Billy busts into the door like a battering ram, his whole body pushing into the room without much effort. Not that Steve puts up a fight. 

He wouldn’t be a match for a determined Billy anyway. 

“So let’s  _ talk _ , baby.” Billy purrs, or more accurately  _ slurs _ , and presses himself up against Steve’s side. Breathes flammable fumes into his face. 

“Jesus Christ.”

“Just Billy.” The guy giggles into his cheek, but Steve barely has to swat at his chest to put him off balance and duck away. 

“I’m not in the mood for this—”

“Would you be in the mood for Tommy?” Billy spits, stumbling back like his own outburst sent him reeling. 

“Tommy? What the hell does he—“

“Tommy said he fucked you.” Billy says, sways, turning his head away like he can’t watch. And suddenly Steve feels the floor fall out from under him.

Like he’s gonna puke on his own fucking carpet.

Honestly, just remembering that  _ one _ drunken night is enough to make him hurl. 

Which,  _ fuck Tommy _ for making him relive it. 

And maybe Billy finally clues into the wave of absolute  _ disgust _ that’s pulsing through his gut, up to his throat, because he looks up and Steve wants to hide under the bed. 

“ _ Once _ .” He snaps. “It was a mistake and I wish it’d never happened.” 

“Shoulda known.” Billy mutters, wanders towards the bed where he flops down, tries to hide the jealousy. Steve sees anyway. “He said you loved it.” 

“Yeah, you should have known.” Steve scoffs, bitterness churning in his gut like bile. “You should have known that everything Tommy says is either a straight-up lie or bullshit.” He makes a face. “You should have just,  _ asked _ . You know, with  _ words _ .”

“God, I  _ get it _ .” Billy moans, falling back on the bed. “I’m sorry. I’m the  _ worst _ .”

“You’re an asshole. And an idiot.” 

“Fine.”

“And a coward.”

Billy’s head lurches from the bed, his body flexing to put him upright. But only a little. Just enough that Steve can see the wrinkle on his forehead. 

“What?”

“You attacked my friend because you were jealous instead of just  _ telling _ me how you feel about me.” 

Billy makes a sound, like he’s about to protest, but Steve can’t  _ hear  _ it. Can’t stand dancing around the elephant in the room. So he pounces, gives into the urge he’d had since the moment he’d set eyes on Billy in the hallway.

He pins Billy down on the bed with both hands to his chest, sits on his thighs. 

_ Sort out your shit, Steve. _

“I love you.” Steve whispers, his breath shakier than he’d intended. A little unsure, like maybe he’d shown his hand too soon.

Billy, though. Billy goes still under him, like he’s too afraid to breathe. 

“I mean, I’d like to actually spend time with you. With our clothes on—”

“Love.” Billy repeats, stupidly, his hands limp at this sides. 

And Steve wants to run, wants to yell  _ psych _ or something equally immature to stop the bleed of panic in his chest as Billy just stares up at him. Blinking and silent. Steve stumbles over a word or two before Billy seems to catch up. 

“You love me.” He breathes.

It’s phrased like a statement but it feels like a question. And Steve manages a shrug. Probably not the best thing to do when Billy looks like he’s halfway between disbelief and confusion.

“When you’re not being a dickhead.” He whispers. “Or breaking chairs over people’s heads—”

“You shouldn’t.” Billy adds. His color is pale, paler than Steve’s ever seen him, frozen beneath him like he’s terrified. 

Which, suddenly, makes a lot of sense. 

“I don’t give a shit.” Leaning down, he presses a soft kiss to Billy’s cheek. “I don’t care what people think. Or what they say.”

“Omegas can’t mate.” Billy whispers. But it sounds like a sob, cracked and broken. “I can’t give you that.”

“Yes, you can.” With both hands, Steve cups Billy’s face, tries to convey how much he  _ does _ mean it when he says, “I just want you.”

It takes a while, a couple of minutes of just  _ silence _ before Billy finally seems to hear him, tears running silently down his face. “I’m drunk.” Billy croaks. And Steve can’t help but laugh at the sad little declaration. 

“I know.” He wipes at the wet trails on Billy’s cheeks, tangles his fingers in Billy’s soft curls. “You smell like a distillery.” Steve murmurs, not unkindly, before pressing another kiss to Billy’s cheek. “A  _ cheap  _ distillery.”

“Fuck you, rich boy.” Billy shoots back, but a grin has his mouth curling up at the corners. “Some of us can’t get wasted on daddy’s black card.”

“Boo hoo.” Steve wrinkles his nose. “You’re right, being rich is so  _ awful _ .” 

He laughs when Billy finally smiles.

 

 

Billy sends him a snap from inside the bathroom, a shot of his abs glistening from the water, with the caption,  _ who looks like shit now? _

Honestly, Billy never looks bad. But Steve snorts at the snap, sends back the eyes emoji and saves a screenshot to his phone. Because he  _ can _ . A minute later the man himself saunters back into the room, bringing a fresh breeze of steam and Irish Spring, and Steve just looks. Lets his eyes linger. 

After a shower, Billy looks different. Looser yet awake, sober, and with wet hair, his curls are dark and tightly wound. With a towel around his waist, he’s goddamn mouthwatering. 

“Better?” Steve says, though he can see the way Billy looks comfortable in his skin again. He closes the bedroom door with one finger, walks across the room without making a sound, and then stops at the edge of the bed, staring. 

“Did you mean it?” His voice is softer than usual. Afraid, but not like before.

“Which part?” Steve groans, sitting up, so he can get his hands on all of Billy’s bare skin. And there’s plenty of it. Slightly damp and soft. “That you smelled bad?” 

Billy pushes him and Steve flops back on the mattress, laughing like an idiot. For the first time in weeks, he feels  _ light _ , unmoored from the weight of  _ what if _ . What if he never sees Billy again? What if Billy doesn’t want him anymore?

What if, things actually work out?

Sitting up, Steve latches onto Billy’s chest, finds the thick beat of his pulse with an open mouth in moments. 

“Which part?” He asks again, hot on damp skin. When Billy swallows, he feels it against his tongue. 

“The part where you love me.”

He can feel the way Billy goes still when he speaks, so Steve sits back to watch. 

“Yeah, I meant it.” He says quietly and Billy lifts a hand to push his fingers into Steve’s hair. It’s a weirdly intimate move, one that makes Steve shudder with delight. 

“What about...” Billy tugs on his hair, exposes Steve’s throat so he can duck his head, brush his lips over Steve’s neck. “Me being enough?”

There’s a moment, a drag of teeth against his skin that makes Steve gasp quietly. A hint of what could be, and his whole body lights up. 

“You’re everything I want.”

Billy moans against his neck and Steve pulls him into his lap, arms locked around his ribs, their body heat mingling, rising. 

“I can’t mark you like an alpha can.” Billy whispers. But Steve grips him tighter, nips at the firm flesh of Billy’s shoulder, kisses it. “Like  _ Peter _ can.”

Pulling away is difficult, especially with all the  _ skin on skin _ , but Steve needs to look Billy in the eye. Needs to see his face. 

“Stop it.” 

“I’m just sayin—”

“I know what you’re saying, and I want you to shut up.” He kisses Billy hard, deliberate. Nothing sweet about the way he opens his mouth against Billy’s lips, slips his tongue inside. Tastes and takes and pulls on Billy’s back. 

Flipping him onto the bed isn’t hard. Getting him naked is easier. 

The towel barring him from Billy’s cock is pulled away in one tug and Steve, well. He’s been dreaming of sex with his mate for weeks. Dreamed of sucking on the head of Billy’s cock until he’s flushed red, breathing hard. So he does it, excitedly filling his mouth until he nearly gags.

The scent of peaches hits the air and Steve groans, knowing all too well the smell of his lover’s slick. 

“Steve, shit.” Billy squirms. “You tryin’ to make me beg?” And he does, but first he keeps Billy in his mouth, pulls on him hard until his lover is straining on the sheets. Gasping for air.

When he pops off, he wipes his lips with the back of his hand, grins.

“I feel like I’ve earned some begging.”

He’s expecting something greedy, like Billy steering him back to his lap for more. Or lifting his hips from the bed. 

Instead, Billy reaches for his face, leads him up until their mouths can connect. Soft first, then more of a caress. It’s not anything Billy’s done before, nothing this gentle or loving. 

That’s when it dawns on Steve, really.  _ This  _ is Billy’s reply. This is Billy saying  _ I love you too _ . 

“I’ll do anything you want. Please. Tell me what you want, baby.” Billy says into his lips. “I’ll give you anything.”

“I want my mate.” Steve murmurs. ” _ Claim me _ .”

There’s a moment of understanding in Billy’s eyes.

And then his body torques up from the bed and Billy turns them. Flattens Steve to the mattress and splits his legs with powerful thighs. 

“You’re mine.” Billy growls into his cheek, plants a kiss on his jaw before he goes lower. Scatters bites on his neck. They’re not painful, and Steve arches up off the bed for more pressure, chasing the sensation. “You’re  _ mine _ .” 

“Billy.” He moans, reaching for him. Clawing at his back. “ _ Billy _ .” 

His pants are dispatched in seconds and Billy pulls his legs apart, rubs at the blooming lust at the core of Steve’s body. The sound of his arousal, the  _ wetness _ , has Steve whimpering. He wants more. His hole flutters, more slick welling up as Billy rubs, and Steve  _ writhes _ . 

It’s only when he’s truly desperate, chest heaving with each frantic breath, that Billy pushes his cock inside. Inch by inch, heavy and hot, until Steve can feel him in his ribs. 

“You’re mine.” Billy repeats once he’s fully sheathed inside him. “You carry  _ my  _ mark.” His jaw closes on Steve’s neck without warning, breaking the skin without too much difficulty. Steve cries out, but not in pain. 

Bliss. 

Pure and vivid, it burns in his veins. Makes him shake. He feels overexposed, like a sparking wire ready to burst into flame. 

“Fuck yeah, ride it out.” Billy’s moaning into his ear. And he doesn’t quite  _ get it _ until he  _ sees _ the come all over his own belly.

It’s a lot, especially considering he’s not especially into  _ biting _ and Billy isn’t an alpha. But then again, as his mate nuzzles at the mark, licks it clean, Steve’s body lets out an involuntary shudder. 

It feels  _ right _ .

“Don’t stop.” He says, gripping Billy’s ass in both hands.

“Wasn’t planning on it.”  

His lover sets a pace, a low swing of his hips that brutally rocks against the sweet spot inside Steve’s body. He can’t help the strangles cries that punch from his lips with each stroke. Can’t do anything to muffle his stream of endless praise.

More more more  _ fucking _ more.

The bed frame joins the tempo, beating against the wall, and neither of them could goddamn  _ care _ that the whole house can hear them fucking.

Steve can feel the shallow marks at his throat throbbing in time with it all, knows they’ll scab visibly for everyone to see  _ anyway. _

And isn’t that the whole point?

“Fuck me.” He pants into Billy’s cheek, fingers numb where they grip his lover’s neck. “ _ Don’t hold back _ .”

So Billy doesn’t. 

Jostling them on the bed, he reaches for the headboard, grips it with both hands, and uses the leverage to move faster. Harder, but shallow.

Because the fucker is  _ aiming  _ and Steve sees spots it feels so good. It looks amazing too -- all of Billy’s torso flexed and gleaming with sweat, his lover’s mouth open with low grunts of exertion, and his  _ eyes _ .

Those eyes never look away.


End file.
